The last pulse of cum worked itself from Lucian’s slit, and he sank down onto the bed and cut his thoughts short. Sweaty, exhausted, and far less aroused than he had been seconds before, he considered what he’d just done andregrettedit.
Marcus wasn’t someone he wanted to get involved with. Marcus was off the table. The only reason Lucian had fantasized about him was because his heat was starting to manifest, and he was desperate for an alpha totakehome.
But the longer Lucian reflected on it, the less satisfactory that answer became. In his darkened bedroom, curled beneath his blankets, a final thought struck Lucian before he fell asleep that made him change his mind—The Shepherd had no shortage of alphas. He’d met the eyes of many men and woman who looked more than ready to take him to bed, but Marcus was the only one he camebackto.
The only one hewanted.
Sleep was a mercy Lucian desperately needed. He didn’t want to reflect on that thought any more than heneededto.
He was scared to admit what itmeant.
8
Marcus
The razor glidedalong the underside of Marcus’ neck. He watched the shaving cream gather against the blade, then finished the stroke and wiped the blade clean on the hand towel draped over the side of the bathroom sink. Marcus leaned a little closer, examining the skin of his neck to make sure nothing had been forgotten. Nothing had been. The errant stubble on his neck and beneath his chin was gone. All that remained was the stubble lining his jawandlip.
Marcus rinsed the blade, dried it, then put it away. He closed the medicine cabinet door and looked himself in the eye. Excitement burned deep within, the kind he hadn’t seen in himself inyears.
He wasready.
It wasn’t often that he found an omega who piqued his interest like Clarissa’s new boy had. New faces came and went. Those who stayed often did so because they’d found what they were looking for—companionship, community, or control. Marcus watched them rise just as he himself had once risen, emboldened by the power hidden beneath The Shepherd’s dim lights. But after all these years, he was coming to realize that power wasn’t what bound him to The Shepherd. The sense of completion Marcus got from seeing others bend to his will and listen to his word had drawn him in, but the sparkle had worn off, and Marcus was able to see beneath the finish and directly into what laybeneath.
Itwashope.
Hope that he’d find the young man able to bind Marcus’ heart as Marcus bound his body. Hope that one day, he’d find a soul that made his own yearn for something more than heated Friday nights and delirious Saturdaymornings.
Hope that at the end of the day, the fantasy never hadtoend.
And while it was too early to say if he’d found what he was looking for, Marcus knew that he’d never met a man who drew him in as deeply as Clarissa’sboydid.
Off-limits or not, Marcus wasn’t about to lethimgo.
Marcus’ shirt hung from the back of the bathroom door. He took it off the hook and shrugged into it, adjusting his collar so that it lined up before he did the buttons one by one. It was still early on a Friday night—just after seven—and Marcus was in no hurry. The Shepherd wouldn’t see business pick up until well after the sun had set, and with summer on its way, the days were only gettinglonger.
Once his shirt was buttoned, Marcus left the bathroom to head for his closet. A collection of suit jackets awaited his inspection. After some consideration, Marcus chose one of his black Burberry pieces, gliding his arm into each sleeve before drawing it forward and letting it drape. The shoulders fell perfectly, and the jacket contoured the sturdy shape of his chest and lent him definition in a way Marcusappreciated.
Hand on the closet door, ready to get on with his evening, Marcus was disrupted by a phone call. The dull, professional beep killedhismood.
Eric wascalling.
Marcus left the closet to pick up his phone from where he’d left it on the bedside table to charge. With a deep breath, he cleared thoughts of his evening from his mind and drew himself back into the mindset he visited The Shepherd toescape.
“Good evening, Eric,” Marcus said stiffly. “What’s thematter?”
“Nothing is the matter.” Eric tried to keep the enthusiasm from his voice, but Marcus heard it through the professional rigidity of his words. “In fact, I’m calling because I havefantasticnews.”
“Which is?” Marcus undid the top button of his shirt. He took the phone from his ear to gauge the charge level, then unplugged it from the charger. With the phone restored to his ear, he startedtopace.
“I’m in talks with a big client. We’re talking a seven-figurecontract.”
“Lowsevens?”
“High sevens.” Eric’s voice curled with smug delight. “They’re going into appeals. The case has been dragging through the system for almost a year now, on and off. The verdict was just passed, but the client isn’t giving up. He’s looking to shed his old defense team and bring onsomeonenew.”
“Someone like us,” Marcus said. He found himself in the living room, overlooking the city through hiswindows.
“Exactly.” Eric cleared his throat. “I’m working out the details, but before we finalize anything, I wanted to make sure that you’re interested in taking it on personally. We could appoint any one of our team to the case, but I want to make sure this thing drops so smoothly it doesn’t even make asplash.”
